Grief
by ImaSupernaturalCSI
Summary: Three people with seemingly nothing in common vanish right before Christmas. When his team can't get a bead on the abductor, Mac Taylor calls in an old friend- Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. XOver with Criminal Minds.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"-they are property of CBS and Anthony E. Zuiker. SSA Dr Spencer Reid and SSA David Rossi are the property of CBS and Jeff Davis.**

**Author's Note: I swore that I wouldn't do another fic til my High School Musical one was finished...guess what? I don't listen to myself very well. (Looks around for the plot bunny..."C'mere, you stupid rabbit...")**

**Synopsis**: It's Christmastime in the City, and people are going missing. When Mac Taylor and his team can't get a bead on the kidnapper, Mac calls in an old friend from the FBI, David Rossi of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. A crossover with Criminal Minds.

**CHAPTER ONE**

_**New York City, December 20**_

Eight-year old Emily Duchette loved ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Bundled up in her blue Columbia jacket and her favorite winter hat, rainbow colored with a fluffy beanie ball on the top of it, she glided around the ice, visions of Sarah Hughes ice dancing in her mind. She skated around the rink under the lights of the seventy-foot Douglas fir from Idaho, to music only she could hear. She weaved in and out of the fifty-odd people on the ice, expertly moving her feet and her arms in unison with the beat in her mind. She passed one of the corners, and waved at her mother. Kathleen Duchette waved back as she checked her watch. "Five more minutes, Emmy!"

Emily skated in a slow circle ten feet away as her routine was interrupted from the crowd. She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest, looking pointedly at her mother. "Mo-oomm!" Emily protested, drawing out the monosyllabic word as only an eight-year-old can. She stuck her bottom lip out and made puppy-dog eyes.

Kathleen held up her hand, fingers outstretched. "_Five_, Emily!" It wasn't going to work, not tonight. Kathleen shifted the Macy's bag on her arm-her husband's Christmas present inside, and zipped up her long, gray winter coat. She and Emily had spent the day shopping for Daddy. Emily's eyes had lit up at every store, and Kathleen took it all in while smiling at the fact that Emily's presents were already home and hidden away.

"All right," Emily reluctantly agreed, but then, just like that, she was back at center ice at the Winter Olympics. It was the long program, and she was the final skater…The music returned, and she picked up right where she left off, making her way eventually to the middle of the ice where she spun to a slow stop, her arms above her head. Emily took a moment, listening to the Olympic crowd cheer her name, and then turned to her mother. Kathleen was clapping, ignoring the weird looks from the rest of the crowd. "I'll meet you over there!" Kathleen called to her daughter. If they hurried, they could still get hot chocolate at the concessions stand before they closed.

As she finished her "program," the little brunette skated over to the rink entrance. Kathleen moved around the rink to meet her daughter where she was taking off her skates. She held Emily's boots in her hand, to trade her out when she got around.

When she got to the bench, Emily wasn't there. Her skates sat side-by-side, the neon orange skate guards in place. Kathleen looked around, thinking Emily may still be on the ice. But her little girl was nowhere to be found. "Emily?" Kathleen ran to the edge of the rink, searching. Emily's hat was impossible to miss. It was easy to spot. But she didn't see it.

"_Emily!"_

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Sheldon Hawkes and Adam Ross met Detective Don Flack on scene. "What do we got, Flack?" Hawkes asked. He was wearing a black down jacket and jeans. Adam wore an orange Columbia jacket, snow boots and gloves. He still wasn't used to New York winters.

Flack handed him a photo. "Emily Duchette, she's eight. One minute she was getting off the ice, next minute she was nowhere to be found." His normally light and teasing tone was replaced by a dark and serious voice, the way it always was when a child was involved in something terrible. "Amber Alert is out, but..."

Adam wandered over to the bench, where Emily's size four skates still sat. His teeth chattered. _Five days before Christmas_, he thought as he took out his camera. _What a way to start the holidays. _He snapped a photo of the skates, leaning there, as if they were waiting for the little girl to come back and get them any moment.

"Hawkes, this is Kathleen Duchette," Flack introduced him to the obviously distraught mother. Even if he hadn't introduced them, Hawkes would've have had no trouble being able to pick her out of a crowd. The woman's eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were flushed. She looked up at Hawkes.

"Detective, tell me you're going to find my daughter," Kathleen begged, putting both her hands on his arms. She looked at him pleadingly, tears in her eyes, mascara running. A Macy's bag lay crumpled at her feet, whatever gift inside forgotten.

Hawkes and Flack exchanged a Look. _Do I promise her something I can't guarantee_? Hawkes swallowed. He never quite knew how to handle this situation. "Mrs. Duchette, I promise you we are going to do everything we can." There. It was vague but concrete all at once. But it seemed to work. Hawkes excused himself at that point and came over to join Adam, still snapping photos. "Five days before Christmas," Hawkes echoed. "Tell me you got something."

Adam shook his head. "There's so many footprints it's impossible to tell if they belong to anyone in particular." He took a breath and let it out slowly. "It's twenty degrees out and the kid isn't even wearing shoes."

"Whoever it was probably carried her out," Hawkes said. "Emily's tall for her age, but carrying her would be the easiest way to get her out without her struggling or drawing attention."

"Nobody noticed a little girl being picked up and hauled out of here?"

Hawkes shrugged. "It's classic New York City-nobody ever sees _anything._"

"Hey…" Adam set the camera down for a minute, and looked at Hawkes. "Hey, you don't think this might be connected to that case from last week, do you?" He shrugged. "I-I mean, we don't get many kidnappings in this town, and then two in two weeks, right?...so, maybe…"

"Work this scene first, Adam," Hawkes suggested. "If there's a reason to cross-check the two, we'll do it. Until then, let's focus on getting this little girl home in time for Christmas."

The thought had crossed his mind, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Mac Taylor was working late. This came as no surprise to anyone. Lately, it seemed like he lived in his office. He sat in his chair, his ear on his voicemail from the Commissioner, but he was only half-listening. It wasn't anything new. His eyes drifted to watching the snow fall outside his window. It had been falling on and off for the past week or so-falling a little, then melting, then falling again and staying, then melting off. But right now, his mind wasn't on the weather, and it definitely wasn't on the Commissioner and his budget cuts. Instead, his mind was running over the evidence they had collected from the Ryan Simpson case. The missing person's case had everyone in the lab baffled and completely stumped-a situation that none of them were used to. He flipped open the folder again-rereading information he'd read so many times he'd committed it to memory.

Ryan Simpson was thirty, an even six-foot and 200 pounds. He worked at the docks, driving a loader. He never came back to the apartment he shared with his roommate after work last Wednesday. He didn't have a car, he took a taxi everywhere he went. He was new to the city, had only been in New York for a couple of months. Everyone saw him get into the taxi after work. They had tracked down the taxi's route, found out Ryan Simpson had been dropped off at a bar in SoHo after work. That was the last anyone had ever heard anything from Ryan Simpson. Stella and Danny had questioned everything and everyone in the bar, but all they had managed to get was that Ryan Simpson left with a girl-one that everyone described as average, but no one could sit with a sketch artist and say exactly what she looked like. And after that, nothing. Ryan Simpson had simply disappeared. He hadn't reported into work, which prompted his boss to call in a missing person. Simpson was never late and the best worker the dockmaster had.

"Mac?"

Stella Bonasera's voice snapped him back to reality, and he turned in his chair to meet her eyes. "Stella. You're here late." He unconsciously started loosening his black tie as he tossed the Simpson file onto a pile of folders at the edge of his desk.

She raised an eyebrow. "Says you," she replied pointedly.

He nodded back with a tired smile. "Touche."

"What're you working on?" She came around the desk and perched on the edge of it to look over his shoulder, unbuttoning her blue cardigan, settling in. If Mac wasn't going home tonight, as it appeared he wasn't, she sure as hell wasn't, either.

"The Ryan Simpson case," Mac replied. He pointed to the file at the end of his desk. It was on top of the stack of unsolved cases that would sit there until he closed them. "We've never dead-ended like this before, Stella," he said. Only one other case had ever eaten at him like this one...only one other case had dead-ended with no evidence and no arrest before...that one hadn't ended very well. Sure, they'd caught the guy in the end, but at too high a price...

"We'll get something. Maybe it needs a fresh set of eyes," she suggested. "I could have Lindsay look over the statements Danny and I took, see if she catches anything. She's in tomorrow morning for half a day, right?"

"Do it," Mac agreed, then asked, "Did anyone get ahold of his parents out in Wyoming?"

Stella nodded. "Yeah. The Simpsons are on their way here, they should be here tomorrow or the next." She sighed. "Guessing this isn't how they wanted to spend Christmas in the city."

The elevators dinged, and Mac saw Hawkes and Adam step off the elevator, kits in hand, snowflakes speckling their jackets. Hawkes headed for the locker room to ditch his jacket; Adam shook his jacket off right in the middle of the hall. "Hawkes and Adam are back," Mac noted, shaking his head at the younger lab tech.

"Working the Rockefeller Center kidnapping?" Stella asked, and Mac nodded. "I'll go see if they need any help." She looked at her boss. "Mac, you should go home."

Mac tapped the Ryan Simpson casefile on top of the pile. "I can't," he said simply, unbuttoning the top button of his maroon dress shirt, settling in for good.

Stella nodded, with a short smile. "I know," she replied. She reached around his desk and gave his shoulder a squeeze, before heading out of his office, her mind racing. They'd heard the Amber Alert on Emily Duchette. New York City was infamous for its crime rate-but two kidnappings inside of two weeks was highly unusual. Now they just had to hope that it would end unusual as well-with them finding the two missing people alive.

* * *

**SHOUT-OUTS**

**notesofwimsey: It's nice to have you on board with this one! I've been trying to get better with my descriptions of things.**

**afrozenheart412: Flack always mentions the lack of witnesses at things...I don't mean to rag on NYC too much, I just take my cue from him.**

**iheartcsinewyork: I am fond of the Adam as well! The Adam will be making many appearances!**

**lilymoonlight: Chocolate-covered carrots are his favorite. Butter him up so he knows I'm not too mad at him ;)**

**Mellow girl: Thanks for the compliments! **

**NorthernLights25: I'll do my darndest-this thing is about half-written, I think. So the first updates will be fast.**

**Spontaneity: In the interest of saving your fingernails, I'll try to update quick! :D BTW, LOVE your icon!**

**mabelreid: Sadly, as I find it hard to work with many multiples of characters, only Reid and Rossi will be making an appearance, I hope that doesn't turn you off...**

**THANK YOU to everybody, Chapter 3 to come soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY" they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. SSA Dr Spencer Reid and SSA David Rossi appear courtesy CBS and Jeff Davis.**

**Author's Note: I probably should throw something in, like "SPOILERS for "CSI:NY" SEASON 5." There. Consider it thrown.**

**CHAPTER THREE**

_**New York City, December 21**_

In the back of his mind, Danny Messer heard buzzing. But that didn't make any sense. He was on a beach in Waikiki, sipping a Long Island Tea and watching a bikini-clad Lindsay Monroe come out of the ocean in a skimpy white thing that left little to the imagination.

_Where the hell is the buzzing coming from_?

"Danny," Lindsay said, looking down on him as she stood in front of him. "Danny."

* * *

In the real world where the white stuff on the ground was snow, not sand, Danny Messer's eyes opened. Lindsay Monroe was lying next to him. "Danny," she whispered again. "Your phone is ringing."

Danny rolled over. His Treo sat on the nightstand, vibrating. He picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. "It's Flack," he said. He pressed SEND. "Yeah, Messer." He listened for a few minutes. Lindsay traced circles on his bare back as she waited for him to be finished. "Where at?" he asked. "Okay, gimme a half hour. Yeah, we'll both be there."

He hung up and set the phone against his chest as he leaned back on the pillow. "We have to get up, don't we." Lindsay said. It wasn't a question.

He sighed. "Yep. We've got another missing person."

Lindsay frowned. "Danny, that's like, two people in two weeks."

"Yeah, and the media'll have a field day," he replied, rolling over again to grab his glasses. "We're supposed to meet Flack out in the Bronx."

"He's been working a lot lately," Lindsay noted.

"They're a man down since...well, anyway, everybody's pitching in to cover," Danny replied softly, and left it at that. "We have to get down there ASAP."

Lindsay nodded. "In that case…I get the shower first." She crawled out of bed, grabbing the overnight bag she'd started keeping at his place for occasions such as this-just until she moved in for good.

* * *

Danny lay back in bed. His mind ran down the details of what Flack had told him-their missing person was a nine-month old baby girl from the Bronx. _Ryan Simpson…now this little girl_. He sat up, looking around the room for his jeans. _Great way to kick off the days before Christmas_. He found his jeans and went out into the living kitchen to start coffee. He looked over at the little three-foot Christmas tree that was standing in the corner. Lindsay had insisted that this year, he have one. "It's small, and it's fake. You can't kill it and it doesn't take up space," she'd told him. "Just don't burn the place down by forgetting to unplug the lights. Besides, it's Lucy's first Christmas and she deserves the whole shebang." There was already a present under it with his name on it. He'd been so tempted to do like when he was a kid, to shake it, to play with it, to try to guess what was in it. But Lindsay would rake him over the coals if he tried. The two of them were goin shopping on their next day off, which happened to be Christmas Day. The lab workers all had it off, and were getting holiday pay, despite the budget cuts. _Miracles do happen_, Danny thought as he grabbed the coffee grounds and turned the appliance on.

A wail from the bedroom brought his attention back to the here and now. It sounded like Lucy was up. He padded into his bedroom, leaving the coffee brewing, to the bassinet in the corner. Lucy Elena Messer stared up at him with wide eyes, wearing a fuzzy pink footie pajama number. When she saw Daddy, her bottom lip trembled and she broke into another wail he would be surprised if it hadn't woken the neighbors.

"Aw, good mornin', beautiful," he greeted her, picking her up. "You slept like a…well, like a baby," he told her as he rocked her. "I bet you want breakfast. But you'll have to wait til Momma's out of the shower for that, _bella_," he grinned. "Daddy's a miracle worker, but there's a few things he just can't do."

"Miracle worker?" Lindsay teased, coming up behind him. She took the sniffling baby from him. "Shower's yours, Miracle Man."

He grinned as he dug for a shirt. "I seem to recall you yelling "Oh God" in your sleep last night," he joked as he brushed by his two favorite girls on the way to the bathroom.

"Mmm, well," Lindsay cooed to Lucy, thankful her baby girl couldn't understand a word of what her parents said, "that was more for confession, I think." She looked at her watch. She had a few minutes to feed Lucy before she had to wake up the neighbors across the hall. She was pretty sure that the Steffans hadn't volunteered for five a.m. babysitting duty when they'd said, "Call us if you ever need anything."

* * *

Considering the new baby, weather, having to grab kits and a company car and New York City traffic, the hour and a half drive to the Bronx was actually quite fast. The Avalanche pulled up in a small snowdrift in front of a beat-up apartment building. Danny left it running to keep it warm as he and Lindsay hopped out into the snow. "There's gotta be at least three inches on the ground," Danny said, shaking off his boot as they got inside.

Lindsay rolled her eyes. "You're complaining about thee _inches_? Next year we go to Montana for Christmas, and I'm making you shovel out the front door." She followed the sounds of uniforms upstairs one floor, ducking under the crime scene tape stretched across the door of Apartment 6A. She went past a young officer who looked too trigger-happy and all-too ready to kick her out. She flashed her badge, and the kid jerked back like she'd punched him.

"Hey, Linds," Don Flack greeted her. He snapped his fingers at the younger officer."You. Outside". The kid skittered from the room. "Sorry about Barney Fife there, it's only his third day on the job. He doesn't know you lab rats like I do."

"'Lab rats'?" Lindsay rolled her eyes. "Like I've never heard that one before. What've we got?"

Flack raised an eyebrow. "Danny didn't tell you?"

She shook her head. "No. What?"

Flack swallowed. "Our missing person is Jenni Landsdown." He held out a photo. "This is her."

Lindsay's eyes widened at the photo of the pink-clad blonde baby girl. Her breath caught. For a split second, Lucy's face had invaded Jenni Landsdown's.

"Monroe?" Flack asked, putting a hand on her arm. "Lindsay."

She blinked. "I'm okay. I'm okay," she said. "Guess it's a little different when you've got one of your own at home, y'know?" The words burned as she said them, but she couldn't take them back now. Mentally, she kicked herself for being so careless.

Flack paused. "I guess I wouldn't know," he admitted. "Uh, anyway…Mom went in to check on the baby at about four a.m., found the window open, the baby gone. Perp must've gone down the fire escape. Snow covered up the boot prints, so nothing there."

"And once again, nobody saw anything," Danny said, coming up to join them. He shook his head. "I don't like this," he said. "That's two people in two weeks."

"Three," Flack corrected, and Danny eyed him. "You didn't hear about the Rockefeller Center kidnapping?"

Danny and Lindsay shook their heads. "A little girl disappeared from the skating rink last night."

"Three people in two weeks, and all right before Christmas," Lindsay said. "Nobody sees anything, and we have no evidence."

"I _really_ don't like this," Danny reiterated. "You think it's a coincidence?"

Flack shook his head, remembering Kathleen Duchette at the ice rink. "I don't believe in coincidence," he said. "Three people go missing right before Christmas? Something's up."

Just what kind of "up" was going on, that was the question.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I think I'm mixing things up as far as canon and seasons with "Criminal Minds"-I've seen all of Season 3 and bits and pieces of Season 4, so I'm kinda combining the two into a workable universe...**

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Later that day, Mac Taylor's entire team met together in the conference room. "All right, people. Here's what we know," Mac said, bringing up the files on the big screen. "Our first target was Ryan Simpson, age 30, recent transplant to the city. Left work, went to a bar, left with a woman…and no one has seen him since. That was December 18."

"Yesterday, eight-year-old Emily Duchette vanished from the Rockefeller Ice Rink. She goes to school at St. Katherine's Elementary, wants to skate at the Olympics when she grows up and is an only child," Hawkes explained.

"And this morning, nine-month-old Jenni Landsdown," Lindsay said. "Mrs. Landsdown is an accountant and Mr. Landsdown works for the city."

"We haven't gotten any physical evidence from any of the scenes. The snow wipes away any footprints," Stella jumped in. "And we've cross-checked every bit of these people's lives-they have nothing in common with each other."

"So how are we gonna find them?" Hawkes asked. "The trail is cold. And we have to do something before someone else disappears."

Mac agreed. "I have a connection with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit-"

"A profiler?" Danny asked, and Mac nodded. "Most of his team is probably out on leave, but I think I could convince him to spend Christmas in New York City."

"We need all the help we can get," Adam muttered from the back of the room. Everyone around the table looked at him. He cringed at the looks on their faces, but- "What?" he defended himself. "It's true."

Stella turned to Mac. "Make the call," she told him.

* * *

_**Quantico, Virginia**_

Christmas music floated through the hidden speakers as David Rossi walked outside in the snow. The older man was thankful that there was another year in a row he wasn't going to have to make a phone call. He was so thankful for it, in fact, that he'd gone out to buy his first Christmas tree a few days ago. At the moment it sat in his large home in a corner undecorated. He just hadn't had time; the team had just gotten back from a case in Louisville, Kentucky twelve hours ago. Lights reflected off the store windows. He thought about his team- Derek Morgan was visiting his sisters and mother in Chicago. Emily Prentiss had reluctantly agreed to go overseas with her mother to Saudi Arabia (she told Rossi at least she'd get a tan out of the deal, to which Jennifer Jareau had asked if she'd wanted to trade). JJ was going to Montana-something about a skiing trip she and her husband Will had had on the books for months-Will loved to ski, JJ notsomuch (she'd told Garcia that she was more than happy to sit with Henry and watch Will fall down the black diamond runs he claimed to be an expert at). Penelope Garcia was in Cancun with Kevin Lynch, some much-needed one-on-one time. And Aaron Hotchner had been invited to the White House for the reception with the White House Christmas tree and the unveiling of the ornament theme this year-and like a good Special Agent-In-Charge, he couldn't say no. He had invited Haley and Jack to come with him, but Haley had made up some excuse about her mother, and so Hotch had promised he would bring Jack's present over Christmas Day and spend some time with his son.

Spencer Reid's original plan was to visit his mother, but at the last moment had decided to spend Christmas by himself this year. When he'd last spoken with the young doctor, Reid had told him he was going to the Rockefeller Center Christmas concert in New York City-a vacation, finally. And Rossi was proud of him taking it alone. The young man needed it.

As for Rossi…Rossi was looking forward to spending Christmas alone. He'd heard about what had happened the last time the whole BAU team had a vacation…things didn't go so well.

Then his phone rang. The number that came across was a New York City area code. Rossi stood at an intersection waiting for the 'WALK' sign as he answered. "David Rossi," he said.

"Hello, Dave, It's been a long time."

Rossi smiled as he recognized the voice he hadn't heard in ages. "Mac Taylor. It _has_ been a long time."

"I thought you retired."

Rossi crossed the street as the walking man appeared. "I did. But you know you can't ever stay away."

"Even if you want to," Mac replied with a laugh. "Listen, David…I have a request."

The tone in his voice made Rossi stop under a doorway. "Anything, Mac, you know that."

"I have three missing people with nothing in common-a construction worker, an eight-year-old girl and a nine month old baby-"

Rossi checked his watch. "I can be in New York City in three hours, is that enough time?"

"I hope so," Mac replied from New York City. "I hate to do this to you on your holiday."

"Mac…It's okay," Rossi said, stepping out into the snow to hail a cab. "I'm on my way. Oh- Mac?"

"I'm still here."

"Mac, one of my team is already in New York City. If you don't mind, I'd like to bring him in on this." A Yellow Cab pulled over and Rossi climbed in the back, telling him to head straight for Dulles.

"As one of my techs put it to me today, David, we need all the help we can get right now."

* * *

**SHOUT OUTS**

**lily moonlight- Grazi for the review! I'm working on trying to get more introspective with the characters, hopefully that's coming across.**

**mabelreid- I am glad you're confuzzled. It should all make sense in a couple chapters, I hope.**

**iheartcsinewyork- Yeah, it's rough for Flack right now-and I wish i could promise it'll get better, but, well, it's not titled Grief for nothing...**

**afrozenheart412- LOL, you caught it-the original plan for this story was not to make it post-Season 5, but that switched midway. Anyway, I figure if Danny was dreaming that sorta dream, well...no offense to Lucy, but sometimes you just gotta get away ;)**

**Spontaneity- I'm still adjusting to that as well. Lindsay was preoccupied, she totally didn't mean it, it just slipped.**

**NorthernLights25- I did enjoy writing that dream, not gonna lie. Thanks for stickin' with it so far!**

**celticstarwolf- More to come!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY" they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. SSA Dr Spencer Reid and SSA David Rossi appear courtesy of "Criminal Minds", CBS and Jeff Davis.**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

It was like staring at a spider web. A spider web of a case that made zero sense at all. Stella Bonasera's eyes flicked from one photo to another, one grain of information to another. She turned to Sheldon Hawkes, who was leaning against the conference room table. "Are you seeing any connections?"

Hawkes shook his head. "No. They're all from different neighborhoods, definitely not in the same age range." He looked at Stella. "What do a 30 year old loader, a nine-month-old baby and an eight-year-old girl have to do with each other?"

"Your connection won't be with them," a voice spoke up. Stella and Hawkes turned to see a young man standing in the doorway. He wore a long black winter coat and olive green cargo pants. He was wearing a pair of Converse shoes and carrying a tan messenger bag. He had a boyish face, and Hawkes pegged him at no older than thirty. He had shoulder-length brown hair. It was his eyes, though, that made Stella take notice. A pair of eyes that looked like they'd seen more than his age would have liked. "Your connection is going to be with your unsub."

"Our un-what?" Hawkes asked.

"Unknown Subject," the new arrival clarified as he shifted out of his coat. He wore a funky-patterned, white button-down shirt underneath a brown sweater vest. The top button of the shirt was undone. "And your connection is going to be what your unsub wants with them. My guess is they're from different financial backgrounds, different neighborhoods? Add in the age difference, the sex difference, and…no, you're definitely not going to find anything that links them together-_except_ for the links your unsub sees. Things that make them familiar to him, or have meaning to him."

Stella held up a hand. "Who _exactly_ are you?" she asked him.

He tugged off his bag and sat it gently next to the door. "I'm sorry. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit." He offered a hand to Stella. She shook it. He had a firm handshake…she'd sort of expected 'fish grip.' "Doctor?"

"Yeah," Reid said. "I have three PhDs. That's not me bragging, that's just some background so you know why they attached "Doctor" to my title," he explained. "Nobody in my unit calls me Special Agent, they all just call me Dr. Reid when they introduce me, or Supervisory Special Agent Doctor…and I'm rambling." He blushed. "Sorry."

"Dr. Reid," Hawkes acknowledged, shaking the younger man's hand, recognizing a lot of himself in the kid. "You must be the help that Mac called in?"

Reid frowned. "No," he said. "I mean, I got a call from Special Agent David Rossi, he just said I was supposed to come here?"

"Agent Rossi is on his way here from DC," Mac said, coming into the room with the casefiles. "But he did say he had a man in the city already. I'm sorry we had to take you away from your vacation, Dr. Reid."

Reid shook his head. "Uh, no, it's all right." He pointed to the spider web. "These people have families that want them home for Christmas. I'm all right with preempting my vacation time if we can get them home." He looked at Mac. "You must be Detective Taylor? SSA David Rossi told me I was supposed to meet up with you."

Mac shook the young man's hand. He looked at Reid. "I didn't expect-"

_You didn't expect me to be 29 years old and wearing Converse tennis shoes. _"No sir," Reid replied. He shrugged. "Most people don't."

"I was just going to say I didn't expect you to get here so soon with the weather and traffic," Mac replied.

"I got lucky," Reid shrugged. "I think I got into the one taxicab that didn't care about traffic laws or the weather."

"That's all of them, actually," Stella cut in, and Reid chuckled. He looked at the files in Mac's hand. "Would you mind if I had a look at those?"

Mac handed them over. "Please."

Reid perused the files. A few seconds later, his eyes were up at the web. Mac and Stella exchanged looks. _He read all those already?_

As if he could sense what they were thinking, Reid said, "I read 20,000 words per minute," he said, never taking his eyes off the board.

* * *

"Who's the kid?" Danny asked Stella later. Spencer Reid was still studying the spider web they had set up, oblivious to the world around him.

"He's with the FBI BAU," Stella explained. "And that 'kid' has three PhDs and two BAs."

Danny whistled. "A regular genius."

"According to Mac, he's apparently a brilliant profiler," Stella added.

"If he can help us find those people, then I am all for him," Danny said. He yawned.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" Stella teased. "Lucy keeping you up?"

Danny bit back a smile. "Ah…no. No, _Lucy_ slept like an angel last night." The innuendo was _not_ lost on the older woman.

"Speaking of the little one," Stella said, "is that where Lindsay is at right now?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, she's home feeding her. She wanted to give the neighbors a break. They told us 'call if you need anything,' but I have a feeling they weren't ready for our schedules."

"She's still part time right now, though, isn't she?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, but with this case…" he lowered his voice, "she wanted to be here."

Stella nodded understandingly. "Sure, sure," she replied. "And we could definitely use her."

The elevator dinged, and Danny and Stella turned. An older man, older than Stella, perhaps right around Mac's age, with short black hair graying at the edges and goatee, stepped onto the 35th floor. He was wearing jeans and a brown leather jacket. Snowflakes still sprinkled his hair. He spotted them and came over. "Is this the CSI lab?"

"You found it," Stella replied. "Can we help you?"

"I'm Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi," he replied, unzipping his jacket to reveal a denim button-down shirt. "I got a call from Detective Taylor."

"With the BAU, sure," Stella said. "Mac's office is this way, Agent Rossi."

"Call me Dave, please," he requested. "And I'd like to get started as soon as possible-did Dr. Reid find you?"

Stella pointed down the hall to the conference room. "He's going over the casefiles as we speak," she reported.

"I'll go tell Mac you're here," Danny offered. He jogged down the hall, leaving Stella to direct Rossi to the conference room. Reid looked up the moment they stepped in the room. "Rossi, hi," he greeted the SSA.

"Hey, Reid," Rossi said, coming to join him. "Sorry to interrupt your vacation."

"It's all right," Reid replied easily. "This is a good reason to cut it short."

"All the same," Rossi said apologetically. Then, "What do we have?"

Reid pointed as he spoke. "Ryan Simpson, age thirty, warehouse loader. Emily Duchette, age eight. Jenni Landsdown, age nine months."

"Take a look at their facial features," Rossi said, his mind already at work on a profile. "All very similar, if I didn't know better, Emily Duchette could be the daughter of this Ryan Simpson fellow."

"Kathleen Duchette is happily married to Kyle Duchette, no reason to suspect an affair," Mac said, with Danny on his heels. "Dave, it's good to see you again."

Rossi shook his hand. "Likewise, Mac, likewise. As I was telling Reid, here, your kidnapped victims look very similar in facial features. Emily could be Ryan Simpson's daughter, and little Jenni…well, the eyes and the hair are a striking resemblance."

"You don't waste any time," Mac noted.

Rossi inclined his head toward the board. "We don't have time," he said simply.

* * *

Adam and Hawkes came into the room, and hung in the back as the two profilers went to work. Both of them recognized the psychology terms they were throwing out, but neither one could understand how they all fit together. A few moments later, Rossi and Reid both turned around. "Mac, we have a profile for you."

"How?" Adam whispered to Hawkes. "They've only been here like thirty seconds. And we have no evidence!" He caught the older FBI agent staring at him and instantly shut up, but the younger one smirked.

"Your unsub-that's Unknown Subject," Rossi clarified for the new arrivals in the room, "is a female. Probably in her late twenties or early thirties. If she carried off an eight-year-old girl, she most likely works out."

"Or she may have had something to entice her away," Reid put in. "Candy, pets, balloons..."

"She's your typical American housewife, she probably has a day job, and probably lives in Suburbia somewhere," Rossi added.

"That would explain the woman with Ryan Simpson," Hawkes said.

Rossi nodded, continuing. "She's a family woman, and she's a good mother. But...she would have recently gone through some kind of trauma. An accident, maybe."

"You might look at all car accidents or house fires in which a family was involved, check for family cars, like vans and SUVs," Reid added. "Because if you take a look at your victims, here," he said, "the people you're looking at very closely resemble each other."

"Like a family," Danny said, his gut wrenching. Images of Lindsay and Lucy flashed in his mind.

Reid nodded. "Exactly. This woman just lost her entire family, and it would be _very_ recent," Reid added. "She's not over the heartbreak just yet, and she probably never will get over it."

"Which is why she found herself a replacement family for Christmas," Stella guessed, and Rossi's gaze confirmed it.

"It's more like...she's finding her family again," Rossi clarified. "Any open cases involving a family of four, and they'll look very similar to your missing people. It's the holidays, that's your stressor."

"Stressor?" Adam Ross asked.

"What made the person snap," Hawkes figured, and got a nod from Rossi again. "She was probably walking up and down the streets, and then all of a sudden-boom-"

Danny bit back a grin.

"-she sees a little girl who looks like the daughter she just lost," Rossi said, pointing to Emily's photo. "It's her little girl, alive and well. It's a miracle, and just in time for the holidays."

"Call Flack, Danny, and get him looking at any and all accidents, house fires from…let's say July to now," Mac said. "Tell him he can rule out everything but the family-related ones, and specifically to look for families of four or more."

"Or more?"

Mac said seriously, "She's still got time before Christmas if she's still missing another member of her family."

"Got it," Danny said, pulling out his phone as he left the room.

"I'm going to go help him, that's gonna be a long list," Stella said, grabbing her coffee mug and heading out.

"David," Mac asked, "let's say this woman's "family" decides they don't want to play along anymore. What are we looking at?"

Rossi looked at the wall, then to Reid, before responding. "Mac…considering the mental state this woman is in…if her picture-perfect family doesn't cooperate, there's a strong chance that she'll try to find one that will."

"She just lost her entire family," Reid added. "She'll do whatever it takes to get them back and keep them. She may never have been a violent type, but with her fragile state of mind..."

"Then we need to get them back first," Mac said.

"Mac, we've got a complication," Danny said, coming back into the room. Adam, Hawkes, and the others all looked at the detective.

"Complication?"

Danny nodded. "Two uniforms on beat in Brooklyn just called in. They found a body in an alley that sounds an awful lot like Ryan Simpson."

Adam said quietly, "Someone didn't want to play along."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

Red and blue lights echoed off the alleyway as Hawkes pulled up in the department Chevy. Danny climbed out of the Avalanche's passenger seat, kit in hand. David Rossi slid out of the back. As they got closer, Flack met them. "It's Ryan Simpson," he said. He eyed Rossi. "Who the hell are you?"

"David Rossi, I'm with the FBI," Rossi replied.

Flack rubbed his face. "Hey, I'm sorry," he apologized, embarrassed. "It's been a long couple of weeks." _Hell, it's been a long freakin' year._

Hawkes and Danny exchanged looks. Flack didn't miss it. He wasn't a detective for nothing. He'd chew their asses later. He was fine. _Fine_...He wasn't fine, and he knew it. "You're the profiler, then?" he asked, in an attempt to get back on topic and away from that particular subject.

Danny held up the camera. "Hawkes, you want to fill him in?" he suggested as he walked by to go check out the body. Ryan Simpson was lying on his back, eyes closed. His hands were gently crossed over his chest. Danny made sure to take close pictures of the red marks around his neck. It would be up to Sid Hammerback to determine the official COD, but right now, Danny was going with strangulation. He remembered Mac telling him that Ryan's parents were flying to the city, and he didn't envy Mac that conversation.

His cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. It was a text from his wife. _Are you okay? –L_

He smiled. He quickly texted her back a _Fine. Home soon. TTYL. –D_. He resumed taking photos.

"The hands over the chest indicate remorse. She's sorry she killed him," Rossi noted as he crouched next to Ryan Simpson's cold form, his boots crunching the snow. He heard the dark-haired detective-_Flack?- _utter a short bark of laughter from behind him, and wondered briefly what his deal was.

"So, what? Does that mean she's come to terms with her husband's death?" Danny asked, straightening up.

Rossi thought about it. "It's possible. Considering her probable state of mind, though..." He sighed. "I don't think it's over." He didn't like that phrase. Not a bit.

A few moments later, Hawkes joined them. "So now what happens?" Hawkes asked. "Clearly, Ryan Simpson didn't make a good husband."

Danny sighed. "I know. Which means she thinks someone else out there will."

* * *

Darren McKellan was only a little drunk. Really. If you asked him his name and had him do a field sobriety test, he could probably touch his nose without too much trouble, and he probably could make it to two standing on one foot. This was _sober_ compared to his usual Friday nights after work. He'd just gotten off a 3-11 at a local grocery store. It was a Friday night, and he didn't work until three the next afternoon, which gave him plenty of time to sleep off his fun. He downed the last shot of Jack Daniels and stole another glance at the pretty blonde in the corner. She was wearing a longsleeved maroon shirt that hugged her curves, and a pair of gray corduroys. She was sipping on the same Sex on the Beach that she'd been drinking when Darren had come in two hours ago. Her green eyes met his, and she gave him a smile.

His confidence boosted by the alcohol buzz, Darren slipped off his stool and went to go talk to her. "Not much of a drinker, huh?" he asked, loud enough to be heard over the blaring country rock.

She shook her head. "Looks like you've been drinkin' enough for the both of us," she responded with a grin.

He grinned lopsidedly back. "I'm Darren."

She paused a moment before answering, "Sophia."

"You aren't usually in here," he said. "I should know, I practically live here."

"They let you sleep it off here, huh?"

He smiled-she was funny. "Sometimes."

She stood up so the top of her head was even with the bottom of his nose. "You wanna go sleep it off somewhere else tonight?"

He didn't even have to think- "Hell yes."

* * *

Spencer Reid liked Dr Sid Hammerback instantly. The gray-haired medical examiner was bent over the body of Ryan Simpson, carefully making notes. "You can come closer," the doctor said. "You're making me nervous hovering over there."

Reid hadn't even realized the ME had heard him come in. "Right, sorry," Reid said. "I am Dr. Spencer Reid with the FBI's BAU."

"Mac told me you'd be on your way down." Sid looked up at him through his glasses. "You're awfully young to be a doctor."

Reid opened his mouth to say something, but Sid continued, "I imagine you get that a lot."

Reid closed his mouth and smiled. The doors opened behind them and Mac Taylor came in, Rossi on his heels. "What can you tell me, Sid?"

Sid thought about it. "You're more likely to get struck by lightning than die in a plane crash. Actually, one in 576,000 are your odds of getting struck by lightning, but you have a one in 2,320,000 chance of being killed by it."

Rossi chuckled, Reid ducked his head to hide a smile, and Mac only shook his head. "About the _body_, Sid."

"He sounds like Reid in forty years," Rossi teased.

Sid grinned. "Making sure you're paying attention," he replied. "Well, I can tell you that he did _not _die from a lightning strike. Your Mr. Simpson died from asphyxiation."

Mac studied the body. "Those are finger marks, there."

The ME nodded, bringing his glasses together with a magnetic click on the bridge of his nose. "Yes." He turned to the youngest person in the room. "Dr. Reid, if I could borrow you for a moment?"

Reid exchanged a glance with Rossi, who tilted his head toward the body. Reid stepped forward. "May I have your hands, please."

Reid hesitantly offered both hands, waiting.

Sid held his hands over the neck of the body. Reid glanced back at Rossi, who looked amused at the thoroughly confused look on Reid's face. "Your killer was most likely a woman," Sid said. "Our young doctor's hands are even bigger than the marks on Simpson's neck, and he can't reach all the way around."

Reid turned a distinct shade of red. "Fits the profile," he mumbled, trying to keep up professional appearances.

"Mr. Simpson is built for construction work, Dr Hammerback," Rossi spoke up. "He's going to be a bigger guy."

"Oh, call me Sid. Dr Hammerback makes me feel old," Sid said easily. "And you're wondering, then, how a smaller woman could have strangled him."

Mac only waited, he knew the doctor wasn't finished. Sid held up the arm of Ryan Simpson. "The COD wasn't strangulation. COD was from something blocking his airway. The hands may have contributed to the problem, but they weren't the problem itself."

"And the projectile was?" Rossi asked.

Sid held up a small dish. "A hot dog," he said, handing it to the FBI agent. Rossi eyed the petri dish with the bite-sized piece of hot dog in his hand. He handed off the dish to Mac. "I usually don't deal with the evidence," he said. "That's your job upstairs. But yes, your victim died from choking on a hot dog."

"Thanks, Sid." Mac nodded. He turned to the two FBI agents. "You guys have been up almost twelve hours straight. You want me to call a hotel?"

"Just direct me to the nearest chair," Rossi replied. "I don't want to sleep, I might miss something."

"I can't sleep with those kids out there, especially considering it's Christmas." Reid added. "Just point me to your coffee maker." He needed a cup of caffeine and a cup and a half of sugar, which he planned on taking back into the conference room to study the web more. He wondered to himself if there were any needles in the lab so he could just take the caffeine intravenously. And then winced for even so much as thinking about it.

* * *

_**December 22**_

Danny Messer let the door to his apartment close quietly. He slipped out of his boots and peeled off his shirt as he headed into the bedroom. As an afterthought, he turned around and unplugged the white lights on the Christmas tree, sending his living room into darkness. He noticed two more presents had joined his underneath the tree. Then he went back to the bedroom. He stole a glance at Lucy, who was awake and looking up at her mobile. "Heya, baby girl," he whispered. Lucy's tiny eyes flicked in her father's direction and she wiggled her toes a little.

"Hey yourself," Lindsay's voice whispered from the bed. "Anything new in the case?"

Danny sank down to the bed, tossing his shirt in the corner. "Ryan Simpson is dead," he said, leaning back on the pillow.

"And the kids?" Lindsay asked worriedly.

Danny shook his head. "Safe, we hope." He rolled his head to the side. "You know I love you and Lucy more than anything in the world, right?"

"I know," Lindsay said, laying her head on his chest. "You know I love you and Lucy more than anything else in the world, too, right?"

He closed his eyes and let his hand drift down to hers. "Yeah," he said. "I know."

"How is Flack doing?" Lindsay asked. "I sort of stuck my foot in my mouth at the crime scene."

Danny crossed his arms behind his head. "He tells us he's fine, but I don't need a profiler to see otherwise. He's hurting, he was gonna take Jess to Cancun over Christmas. So between losing her, spending Christmas alone...and now this case..." He stared at the ceiling. "I don't know."

"Has he seen the department psychologist?"

"I doubt it." Danny sighed. "This is Flack we're talkin' about." He was quiet for a moment, listening to his baby girl coo in the corner. And part of him felt guilty for trying to go to sleep when there were three sets of parents that weren't going to get any tonight.

* * *

Mac rubbed his eyes. He should have taken Stella's advice. Forty-eight hours straight was not conducive to mental or physical function. His whole body was feeling it. Total and utter exhaustion. But as he looked across the hall and saw Rossi and Reid also burning the midnight oils, he knew he couldn't sleep. Not when those two little girls were out there somewhere.

Line six on his phone lit up, and Mac yawned before taking the call. "Taylor."

"Mac, it's me." She wouldn't have had to add the "it's me" to the end-he would know that voice anywhere.

"Stella. Shouldn't you be at home?"

"Says you," Stella replied, for the second time in two days. "I'm helping Flack look through traffic accident reports. Doesn't make me feel better about taking anything with wheels anywhere in this town."

He straightened up in chair, thinking he might need to go steal the coffee pot from Reid. "Finding anything?"

"Still working on it. It's New York traffic, Mac, there's only a few cases." The toneless sarcasm was evident.

"And so you're calling me…"

"Because someone needs to keep you healthy, even if you won't do it," Stella laughed. "Seriously, Mac. Crash on the couch or something for a few minutes. You're a Marine, didn't they teach you to power nap?"

He found himself smiling in spite of himself. "In fifteen minute intervals," he replied.

"That's a good place to start. Flack and I have a stack to finish, then we're going to grab breakfast. You want anything?"

He thought about it. "Couple of bear claws sound good."

"Deal," Stella said. "Now sleep."

"Yes ma'am," he replied.

"You're a lousy liar, Mac Taylor." Her tone turned motherly. "Seriously."

He nodded. "All right. Fifteen minutes."

He could hear the annoyed smile in her voice as she said, "Well, it's a start."

* * *

**SHOUT OUTS**

**afrozenheart412: It's not too painfully obvious that I like writing Danny and Reid, is it? 'Cause I'll try harder to keep it more discreet :P!**

**liilymoonlight: The term "UNSUB" drove me crazy for the longest time, it makes more sense now that I know what it means.**

**celticstarwolf: I'm glad you're still liking it! Stay tuned for more!**

**NorthernLights25: Wow, what a compliment! Gracias!**

**iheartcsinewyork: He's kind of a complex guy to write, I mean, he knows the statistic for everything, and yet JJ can sing "Garcia and Kevin sittin' in a tree" and he's like, "Huh?"**

**mellowgirl: Sometime in the future I'll see if I get brave enough to blend ALL of the BAU into it-but shoot, that's such a BIG cast! :)**

**Shelby Cullen-Hale: Glad you like it, these are both my top two favorites, too!**

**HCainefan123: Doing these every other chapter goofs me up so I tend to forget people, I'm sorry! Thanks for your review, I'd love to see more!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY"; they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. SSA David Rossi and SSA Dr Spencer Reid appear courtesy of "Criminal Minds" creator Jeff Davis.**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Rossi's eyes were killing him. He was reading through witness statements from the kidnappings, and though there wasn't much to them, he read them several times over, hoping something, even if it was infinitesimal, would jump at him. But when the words started to blur together, he gave up for a few minutes and walked the halls. He passed Mac's office, saw his friend crashed on the couch. He didn't look relaxed, though. This was combat sleep, the kind where you were asleep but not, just in case you needed to be up and battle-ready in seconds.

"How do you know him?"

Rossi jumped a little at the sound of Adam Ross's voice. He turned around. "I helped him work a case, a long time ago."

"You guys seem close. Like, buddy-buddy," Adam said.

Rossi nodded. "That happens when you save someone's life."

"Mac saved you?"

Rossi chuckled, not surprised that that was the first conclusion the kid had jumped to. "No," he replied. "I saved him."

The young tech's eyes widened. Rossi saw the hero-worship status that Mac had in the young man's life reflected in his green eyes. "I was in Chicago, working a serial killer case," Rossi said. "Going on about fifteen years ago." He nodded. "Mac was a detective working the case. We'd built a profile on our killer, and we were getting ready to go into his mother's house to get him out."

Adam frowned. "He lived with his _mom_?"

Rossi nodded. "It's one of the stereotypes that occasionally holds true." He leaned against the yellow walls, remembering. "The FBI SAC was fighting the Chicago PD for territory-typical turf battle between local and feds. And I remember, I looked over at Mac, and he looked at me, and we both decided right then and there that we were sick of bureaucratic crap. I pulled my gun and he pulled his, and we went in without the rest of them."

Rossi and Adam had walked to the stairs, and now Rossi sat down, leaning against the banister. Adam sat a step below him. Deferring respect to the older agent. But hanging on his every word. The tech reminded him a lot of Spencer Reid. Brilliant, but constantly trying to prove he was good enough, even though he'd been reassured numerous times that he had nothing to worry about. Forcing himself to stop profiling the boy, Rossi went on.

"I think both of us knew we could potentially lose our badges over that move, but neither one of us wanted to end up at another crime scene. We went around the back, figuring the guys out front had that covered. Mac opened the back door and I went in. We were in the laundry room, but I figured our boy was probably camped in the basement. I could hear his mother yelling at the officers outside through the screen door." He smiled. "I remember Mac comes up behind her, and goes, 'Ma'am, please step outside.' I thought he gave her a heart attack. He walked her to the door and kind of shoved her outside. I think by that time everyone outside remembered we had a killer to catch and finally shut up. I'm pretty sure I also saw steam coming out of my boss's ears-and Mac's lieutenant."

He paused. "And out of the corner of my eye, I see our unsub-Aaron Paulson-around the corner from the room we'd just come out of. He's got a bead on the back of Mac's neck, and he's got his hand on the trigger. So I turned, and I just…reacted. I fired. Hit him in the leg. Probably a bad shot, considering he could've stilled pulled the trigger. And Mac whips around, sees Paulson on the floor. And I could see it-he'd just realized how close he'd come not five seconds ago."

Rossi shook his head. "He looked at me. I think my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't let go of the gun. He kicked the gun away from Paulson and cuffed him. He puts his away, and comes over to me. And in the calmest voice I've ever heard from _anyone_, he goes, 'You can put that away now.' I thought it was funny- here he'd almost died and he was telling _me_ to calm down and relax." He looked at Adam. "We've kept in touch ever since. Sometimes he calls asking for ideas, and sometimes I give him a call just to see how he's been."

He stood up. "I think I'll go check in with Reid."

"Yeah, I should get back to the A/V lab, try to pull something from the rink security cameras," Adam added. He stood as well. "I…uh…thanks. For the story, I guess."

Rossi smiled. "Sure." Adam awkwardly turned to leave. That was when Rossi said, "Mr. Ross?"

Adam turned around. "Yeah?"

"You do a good job here," Rossi told him.

Adam furrowed his brow, confused. "I…thanks."

The older man nodded to him. There was a beat, then Adam acknowledged him and left the room with, Rossi noticed, a little extra bounce in his step.

* * *

"Hey Stel," Don Flack said. "I think I might have one here." The detective handed Stella a file. Stella opened it and scanned through the contents. "Alan, Leah and Kasey Johnson," Stella read. "Traffic report says they were on the Brooklyn Bridge when a car came from behind trying to pass. Clipped the Johnson's SUV, sent it into the barrier. The little girl were sleeping in the backseat with no seatbelt on. Alan Johnson's air bag failed. And the baby didn't make it."

"The wife was notified after the accident," Flack reported. "Sophia Johnson, age 32." He frowned. "Fits Agent Rossi's profile, huh?"

"She lost her entire family that night," Stella said. "Look at the date- that was just before Halloween-the youngest daughter's birthday."

"Sad, to lose them so young and so fast," Flack said. "And right before the holiday season. It's a tough time of year." His voice faded at that last sentence.

"Enough to send her off the deep end," Stella spoke up, trying to keep him on task. "Hawkes said Ryan Simpson's arms were crossed over his chest."

"Usually means they're sorry for killin' 'em," Flack said. He shook his head. "Yet they do it anyway-how does that make any sense."

"It was an accident," Spencer Reid said as he came into the bullpen. Both detectives jumped. Flack's hands had gone to his gun. "Ryan Simpson choked on a hot dog."

"What?" Flack blinked.

Reid tapped the autopsy report. "Hot dog lodged in his throat. The pressure from her hands around his neck choked him to death, but purely by coincidence."

"Explains the position of the body," Stella said.

"I'm sorry I freaked you out," Reid said. "I was headed outside. Needed some air."

"We can understand that," Stella agreed.

Flack checked his watch. "Eight forty. Breakfast time." He looked at Stella. "Hey, you want me to run down to Signora Barbara's?"

"That sounds excellent," Stella said, her mouth watering as Flack pronounced the name of the little bakery down the street from the lab and precinct.

"I could use an extra pair of hands," Flack told the FBI prodigy. "You wanna tag along, get out for a while?"

Reid nodded. "I…sure, okay."

Flack shook his head-man did the kid remind him of Adam Ross. "All right, lemme grab my coat." He snagged a navy department-issue jacket off a coatrack and nodded toward the door. "Signora Barbara's has the best donuts in the City, I swear to ya."

"I'll take your word for it, I've only ever been to New York City twice," Reid replied, shivering a bit as they stepped into the brisk morning air. Snow covered the sidewalk, but was already melting away.

"Once? Don't you guys work outta DC?" Flack held his fingers an inch apart. "You're like, _this_ far away."

Reid shrugged. "Last time I was here we were hunting down terrorists. Didn't exactly have time to stop and sample the local flavor."

Flack snapped his fingers. "Oh, yeah, I remember that," he said. "You guys did a good job. And I'm NYPD, and we're the best, so y'know, take that with what ya will. Cooper couldn't stop talkin' about that lady agent-Amelia or something. I think his wife threatened to divorce him over it." His grin said he was teasing, and Reid smiled back.

"Emily." Reid said, and Flack nodded. "Yeah that was it. Tell ya what, we get done with this case, you and your FBI buddy stick around the City, do some sightseeing, since we sorta screwed you out of your holiday. Me and Messer'll give ya the grand tour."

Reid's face lit up. Flack bit his lip to keep from laughing at him. He looked…well, like a kid at Christmas. _Must've been tough for this kid to grow up so fast_, Flack thought as he pushed open the door to Signora Barbara's. "Signora?" he called out.

"I hear ya, one minute!" the crotchety Italian woman yelled back from the register. She turned to the girl in front of her. "That's'a twenty-six fifty, honey."

The blonde handed over thirty dollars and took the two steaming cups from the Italian woman. "Thanks!" she bubbled. "I've got to get home, the husband needs his coffee fix. He's so cranky lately."

"Signora Barbara's is the best cure!" the old lady proclaimed, and Reid couldn't help but grin. The blonde rushed past Reid and out into the snow.

"Donald," Barbara said. "Donald, you're not wearing a heavy enough jacket." She scolded him like he was her son. Flack only laughed as he ordered. "I already got one Mama, Barbara," he said. "But you do a damned good job of making me think you must be related somehow!"

The woman eyed Reid. "Who's the little one?" she asked. Reid turned bright red.

"He's a bona fide genius," Flack said. "He works for the FBI."

"Oh, so that makes him higher than you, doesn't it?" the little woman teased.

Flack handed over his money. "Not in my City, Signora," he replied. "Keep the change."

"I'm serious!" Barbara called to his retreating back as he and Reid headed outside. "You get yourself a warmer jacket! And a pair of mittens!"

* * *

On the way back to the precinct, Reid snickered. He couldn't help it. "She really does seem like your mother," he noted. "Or anyone's mother, for that matter. Or maybe, more like that grandmother that pinches your cheek at holiday get-togethers that smells like bad perfume and cats and-"

He froze. He stopped talking so suddenly that Flack turned around in alarm, sure something was medically wrong with the genius, like he'd dropped dead in the snow or something.

"What?" Flack asked him.

Reid's mind flashed back to the bakery. "The woman," he said. "The blonde, the one buying the coffee for twenty-six fifty, the uh, the macchiato and the hot chocolate," he said.

Flack frowned. "You remember that?"

"Detective Flack," Reid said, his eyes wide. "Did you get a good look at her?"

"Not really," Flack shrugged. "I only got her from behind and the side."

"Her facial features…the green eyes, the bone structure…" Reid began walking a little faster. "I've seen that face before."

Flack chased after the kid. "Slow down, Dr. Reid," he said. "What are you getting at?"

Reid burst through the doors at the precinct. "Detective Bonasera," he called ahead to Stella, who was seated at Flack's desk. He startled her, and she jumped sky-high. "I need to see those folders."

Stella slid out of Flack's chair as Reid coasted into it, and began flipping through them. "You were just looking at it….there!" He stood up and laid the file open.

"Jesus," Flack hissed. "She walked right by us!"


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

The doors dinged open on the 35th floor and Reid bolted from the elevator, nearly slamming into an awake Mac Taylor, who had just stepped from his office. "What's going on?" Mac asked, but Reid was already past him and into the conference room. He taped up the picture from the folder next to the victim's faces.

David Rossi glanced up over the top of his glasses as Reid said, "Look."

Rossi studied the new picture, the new face. Then he took a closer look at the pictures of Emily Duchette and Jenni Landsdown. Finally, he looked at the family-provided photo of Ryan Simpson.

"They could be related," Rossi said finally. "Reid, who is this woman?"

"Sophia Johnson," Flack said as he and Stella slid into the room, file in hand. "She lost her family in an accident on the bridge this fall. Her husband and two kids."

"She's our unsub," Reid told Rossi.

* * *

Alan Johnson's driver's license listed an address on Staten Island. Mac, Rossi, Flack, Flack and Stella went out to the address. Lindsay and Danny brought Lucy to the lab, their joint day off interrupted. They went straight to the A/V lab to monitor the raid, leaving the baby with-of all people-Adam Ross, whom Lucy found fascinating. The lab tech found the situation terrifying.

Reid joined the Messers and Sheldon Hawkes in the A/V lab. "All right, they just pulled in," Hawkes said, monitoring the GPS from the department Avalanches. The green dots from the vehicle lowjacks came to a stop and the speakers came alive with the sounds of the well-tuned SWAT team getting ready to go in.

Danny listened intently to the chatter coming from the SWAT team and the detectives. Mac, Stella and Rossi were going in through the front. Flack was going through the back door.

"_3…2…1!"_ Danny heard the SWAT team leader count down. There was a loud smash, and then hell broke loose.

* * *

_**Staten Island**_

The house looked like any other cookie-cutter project, a two story blue thing with white shutters and a one-car garage. But it became very clear very soon to the detectives that there hadn't been anyone at this address in a while. Snow piled up against the doorways, seven inches thick. No one had been out to shovel the sidewalk, and underneath the snow was a thin layer of ice from the melt and re-freeze. A car hadn't been removed from the garage.

Stella got a sinking feeling her stomach as Flack and four SWAT team members went through the drifts around to the back, waiting for the signal.

The SWAT leader counted down with a gloved hand, his M14 in one hand, the safety off. Next to him was a second SWAT member, holding the battering ram, waiting for the word go. Behind him were Mac, Stella, and Rossi, wearing goggles and bulletproof vests. "Three…two…_one_!"

He swung the battering ram, splintering the front door.

"_NYPD!"_ Mac yelled as SWAT burst through the door. He, Stella and Rossi followed right behind them, methodically searching the house.

"_Sophia Johnson? NYPD!"_ he heard Flack's voice from the back of the house.

_"Clear!" _Rossi announced from the downstairs bedroom. He holstered his gun. "This place is empty."

"_Its clear here, too_,_" _Stella announced from upstairs. She came downstairs, her expression grim.

* * *

Danny frowned. "There's nobody there?" The chatter on the speakers confirmed it, there was no one at the Johnson home.

Lindsay's heart dropped to her stomach. Hawkes tensed, his fists balling together unconsciously.

Reid turned sheet white. _They'd missed her…somehow they'd missed her._

From the other room, Lucy Messer started to wail, making Adam jerk and look around frantically. It was as if the baby sensed something had gone wrong. Lindsay left the room, not before squeezing Danny's shoulder, to go tend to their daughter.

"Mac?" Danny asked.

His boss's voice came over the system. Grim. "There's no one here."

Hawkes swore. "We're back to square one."

Reid said, "Not necessarily. It's a setback, yeah, but we know we're on the right track." He wasn't sure if he was saying it to convince Hawkes or convince himself. "We need to find places Sophia Johnson would feel safe. Somewhere she could carry on this charade without being caught or questioned by people that knew her." That knowledge in hand, Reid got up and left the room.

Danny turned to his friend. "Do you think we're gonna get her?"

Hawkes looked at the screens, then back to Danny. "I don't know."

* * *

Mac stood in the center of the living room, his kit in hand. SWAT had cleared out, leaving him, Stella, Rossi and Flack. Stella came through the front door, stomping her feet in the entry to get the snow off her shoes. The sound echoed off the walls.

The Johnsons had had some money-Flack reported seeing a trampoline and a pool in the backyard. The electronics were pretty high-end. Mac picked up a framed family portrait and was stunned at how much Emily Duchette and Jenni Landsdown resembled Leah and Kasey Johnson. "She obviously kept an eye out for a long time," Mac noted. "Almost a month and a half of combing the streets looking for her children."

"Look at Alan Johnson," Stella said. "They say everyone's got a twin, Johnson's might have been him."

"Well, let's hope everyone doesn't have a triplet," Mac said.

Stella set her kit down on the carpet. "Where's Rossi?"

* * *

David Rossi gently pushed open a white door on the second floor with "Kasey's Room" printed on a purple clay star hanging from a nail on the door. The room beyond was a typical eight-year old's room-purple bedsheets and pillow shams, a dollhouse, a child's make-up chair and dresser. He wandered to the dresser, and on a whim, pulled open one of the purple drawers.

"Mac!" he yelled downstairs. "You should see this."

A moment later, Mac and Stella both joined him upstairs. "Look at this," the FBI agent said. "The drawers are empty."

Stella went over to the closet and pulled the door open. "Closet's been cleared out," she noted. "There's indents on the floor where a suitcase with wheels was sitting."

"She moved somewhere," Mac said.

"Starting over," Rossi suggested.

"I'm going to look around downstairs," Stella said. She brushed by the two men and headed for the stairs.

On a thought, Mac headed into the master bedroom and checked the closet there. "Rossi," he called.

Rossi followed him inside. "That's interesting."

Mac nodded. "The watch on the side table-that's a man's watch. Ryan Simpson was wearing one when he disappeared. But we didn't find it on him in the alley."

"I don't get it," Rossi said. "This guy could have snapped that woman like a twig-why the hell would he just sleep with her?"

"Maybe she threatened the kids?" Mac suggested. "You could be the most hardened man in the world, but when a little girl is crying for mommy…"

Rossi nodded. Yeah, he knew all about that one, and Mac knew it.

"Dave, Mac!" Stella called from downstairs. The two men met her downstairs in the kitchen. "Here, look," she said, lifting the lid on the trash can. A box of generic macaroni and cheese and the wrapper from some all-beef franks were in the garbage. "Someone didn't take the trash out before they left," she said.

"This is where Ryan Simpson died," Mac said. He pointed to the dishes in the drainer. Two large plates, one small one, and a baby's plate shaped like a bear's head. "They haven't been gone long."

Rossi felt his phone vibrating against his belt. He glanced at caller ID before answering. "Reid."

"_No sign of them_?" the young doctor asked.

"They were here. And they haven't been gone long."

"_Rossi, Detective Flack just got a phone call from a woman who said her roommate never came home from a bar and hasn't reported to work."_

Rossi frowned. "How is this related to this?" he asked him.

"_Her roommate's name is Darren McKellan_," Reid told him. "_And he looks a lot like Ryan Simpson, who looked a lot like-_"

"Alan Johnson," Rossi finished the sentence. He listened for a few moments. Mac and Stella had caught the tail end of the conversation, and were standing next to the stove, waiting to hear the full story. Rossi hung up. "We have another missing man," he reported. "Another dead ringer for Alan Johnson. Reid said Detectives Flack and Messer are on their way to go talk with the roommate."

"Damn it," Stella groused. "Looks like everyone _must_ have a triplet, too."

"Well, let's process this house," Mac said. "Before Darren McKellan ends up a _real_ dead ringer."

* * *


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of "CSI:NY" they belong to Anthony E. Zuiker and CBS. SSA Dr Spencer Reid and SSA David Rossi from "Criminal Minds" appear courtesy of CBS and Jeff Davis.**

**Author's Note: The plot bunny was bugging me for this chapter. I was ignoring him. Lucky for you all, he's very persistent! And he's making me apologize for the wait.**

**CHAPTER NINE**

"What're you working on?" Adam asked Reid, coming into the conference room. He took note of the large borough map tacked up on the glass wall of the room. The profiler had tacked up flags at various spots on the map. "Ah. It's a geographic profile."

Reid turned, surprised. "Yeah? I mean, yeah, by plotting the kidnappings on the wall along with the dump site for Ryan Simpson-"

"You're hoping to nail down where Sophia Johnson lives," Adam finished. "Here, hold on a second," he said, disappearing from the room. Reid finished flagging the map as he waited for the lab tech to return. Then Adam returned to the room with a laptop. "I thought the FBI would be a little further ahead than Post-It flags and a Magic Marker," Adam said as he booted up the laptop.

Reid laughed. "Normally, we'd give our tech Garcia a call, but she's in Cancun." He leaned over Adam. "You have it all digitized?"

"I've been programming it in as we've been getting the information," Adam replied. "Okay, here we go." Orange blinking lights appeared superimposed over the city. "Here's the kidnapping sites for Jenni Landsdown, Emily Duchette, Ryan Simpson and Darren McKellan."

Reid said, "Can you-"

A green blinking light appeared. Reid looked at Adam.

The tech grinned. "That's how we work," he said. "That's the Johnson home."

"See, now if we would connect the dots-"

Yellow lines interconnected the sites. Reid was impressed. Garcia was amazing, but Adam wasn't half bad. He grinned inwardly. Garcia'd kill him for even suggesting that.

"Can you get ahold of your team?" Reid asked. "Because we've just nailed down where they might be. And if they look around that house, they'll find pictures or paperwork of a relative who lives in that area."

"A relative? How do you know she didn't just go hide somewhere?" Adam asked.

Reid smiled. "That's how we work."

* * *

Back at the Johnson home, Mac looked around the master bedroom, taking the place apart as Flack searched the closet. "What are we even looking for?" Flack asked. "I can tell you Sophia Johnson's a size four and wears a size six shoe, but I can't tell you where she's hiding two kids and a grocery stocker."

Mac knelt down, lifting up the bed skirt. Something under the bed caught his eye, and he pulled it out. Flack turned around. "Fireproof box?" he asked.

Mac nodded. "Do you see a key anywhere?"

Flack looked around the room. "No. But I can go you one better."

Mac raised an eyebrow as Flack disappeared into the connected bathroom and came out with a bobby pin. He set the box on the bed and bent down in front of it. A few second later, the box clicked open. Flack held up the pin for Mac. "You learn a thing or two from the boys in the holding cells."

Mac rolled his eyes as he thumbed through the contents of the box. A piece of paper and a picture poked out from underneath a framed photo, and he pulled them out.

Rossi came upstairs. "I just got another call from Reid," he said. "He and Adam put together a geographic profile and they got an address."

"And I've got the deed to a house that Alan Johnson's mother left him when she died six months ago." Mac said, holding up the paperwork.

Rossi's tone was grim. "She went home to visit the family over Christmas."

* * *

Christmas lights blinked on the front of the two-story gray house. The driveway was shoveled out and a blue minivan was parked in the driveway. Snowmen and Santa's reindeer decorated the front picture window, haphazardly.

Mac, Stella, Rossi, Reid and Flack split up, Flack and Reid to the back, Rossi and the others through the front door. "Flack, you and Reid see anything?"

Flack looked through the kitchen window. "I got Emily Duchette-she's washing dishes at the sink and a guy-must be Darren McKellan-putting away leftovers."

"Any sign of Sophia?" This wasn't good.

"No. She might be with the baby."

"That's what we're afraid of," Stella muttered.

Mac jiggled the door handle. "It's open," he said as the door groaned open.

* * *

Flack and Reid burst through the back door. Emily Duchette dropped the plate she was holding and it clattered into the sink. Reid came into the kitchen and put his gun away. "Hi Emily," he said, offering his badge to her. "I'm Reid. We're gonna take you back home to your mommy."

"I get to go home now?" she asked him timidly.

"You bet, sweetheart," Reid replied.

The little girl stepped off the stool she was standing on and threw her arms around the agent. "Good," the little girl told him seriously. "Because Santa Claus wouldn't be able to find me here." Reid grinned as he picked her up, and turned his attention to the man standing at the counter, who looked part relieved, part curious.

"Are you Darren McKellan?" he asked.

The big man nodded. "Yeah. You really FBI?"

Reid nodded.

"'Bout time you got here. That chick's gone off the deep end," he said. "It was hard keepin' her happy."

"I know," Reid replied. "Come on, let's get outta here."

"Where's Sophia?" Flack asked them.

"Upstairs with the little one," Darren replied. Flack threaded his way out of the kitchen to relay that to the others.

Darren McKellan sighed in relief. "Hell, I could use a drink."

* * *

"She's most definitely upstairs," Flack confirmed. "How do you want to do this?"

"The woman's emotional state is very fragile," Rossi said. "She's going to realize she no longer has a husband and her older daughter, so she'll do whatever it takes to protect that baby-_her_ baby, in her mind."

"Take point, Rossi," Mac said. "We'll follow you."

The FBI agent nodded. He took a breath and eased the safety off his gun, starting slowly up the stairs, mentally trying to anticipate what was at the top. Profiling was a great outline. But it never told you exactly what was going to be on the test.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

He could hear cooing. And the soft sound of a woman humming. Rossi carefully eased open the bedroom door, and got his first real good look at Sophia Johnson. The woman who had looked so harried in the newspaper article about her family's death, to his surprise, looked fairly composed. She held Jenni Landsdown in her arms, gently rocking her to sleep.

"Sophia?" Rossi said, but the woman shook her head.

"Shhh," she whispered, never taking her eyes off the little girl. "The baby is trying to sleep."

"Sophia, you need to put the baby down," Rossi said. "She needs to go home to her mother and father."

Something seemed to click in her head. Tears welled in her eyes. "I can't let her go," she said haltingly. "Not again."

"Sophia, your family is gone," Rossi said, keeping his voice steady. Behind him, Mac set his gun down and stepped up beside him. "That little girl is not yours."

"We know you're hurting, Sophia," Mac put in. "But you've caused four more families grief by taking their children." He took another step forward.

"Careful," Stella whispered from behind him, and Mac nodded. "What you've gone through…no one should have to go through that. We know you're hurt-"

"It _hurts_," Sophia cried, and the baby was jolted just enough to wake up and start crying. "It hurts so _much_!" She rocked the baby, trying to get Jenni to go back to sleep.

"I know," Rossi said. "I know."

"I have a family again. I lost them _all_, but now I have them again," she said. "Shhhh, baby girl, it's all right, Leah."

"That's not your family, Sophia, and you know that."

"They are my family."

"No," Mac said. "No they're not. They belong to someone else. We're here to help you, Sophia," he said, taking a few more steps toward the distraught woman. "We can help make the pain go away. This isn't going to make your grief stop." He held out his arms. "Give me the baby, Sophia."

"Easy, Mac," Rossi muttered, and the detective took a small step forward.

"It's going to get better," Rossi said. "You're going to get better. We're going to get you help."

"Will it make the pain go away?" Sophia asked, in a voice barely above a whisper. She was looking at Jenni.

"No," Rossi admitted. "But it's going to get easier."

She considered that.

Then she handed the baby to Mac. And collapsed, crying, to the floor. Mac hustled Jenni Landsdown out to Stella, who took the little girl and started comforting her. Rossi took Mac's cuffs and secured Sophia's hands behind her.

Flack and Reid were waiting downstairs when the group came down. Both had heard the exchange from the foot of the stairs, and both were mildly surprised there were no shots fired. The group was solemn. The case had ended well. Reality wasn't so kind. Red and blue lights from squad cars and the ambulance ricocheted off the interior walls through the window.

Not so much a silent night. Yet at least for some, peace on earth.

* * *

**December 23**

Danny set the baby carrier down inside the door as he helped Lindsay out of her jacket and scarf. He tossed his own jacket on the back of the chair and went to work unbundling his daughter from her carrier. Lucy was out like a light. He carefully picked her up and handed her to her mother. He looked around the living room. They'd left the TV on silent when they'd left earlier, and now it was playing a silent version of _A Christmas Story_. They'd left the tree plugged in as well, and the white lights cast a glow over the room.

"Well, she's gone for the night, I think," Lindsay said in a whisper as she came out from the bedroom. She'd changed into a pair of sweats and an oversized NYPD T-shirt she'd cut the sleeves off. Danny peeled off his shirt and tossed it in a corner.

"You have lousy housekeeping skills," Lindsay chided as she sat down on the couch. Danny pushed her forward as he sat down behind her and then pulled her back against his chest as they sat there for a few moments in silence, processing the night.

"With everything that's happened tonight," Danny mused, kneading Lindsay's shoulders, "makes me realize how thankful I am to have a family."

Lindsay leaned back and tilted her head, kissing him under the chin. "Have I told you I love you lately?"

"More than a few times in the past 36 hours," Danny replied. "So. What'd you get me for Christmas?" he asked.

Lindsay frowned. "That was sort of a mood killer."

He wiggled his eyebrows. "How 'bout I give you a taste of what I got you?"

She shook her head. "No." He leaned in and kissed her neck, then moved past her shoulders. "Danny, _no_," she said. "We'll wake up Lucy."

He moved past her shoulders. "Not if we're quiet."

* * *

Flack, Hawkes, Reid and Adam stood outside the precinct on the sidewalk. Snow was falling, in heavier flakes now. "I'm glad that one's over," Flack said. His eyes wandered somewhere, and Hawkes caught it. Don Flack did not need to be alone right now. There'd be time for that later.

"Hey. I think Sullivan's is open late tonight," Hawkes said. "You wanna go grab a beer?"

Flack looked over at the CSI, and nodded, grateful. "Yeah. Sounds good." He looked over at Adam and Reid, deep in a conversation about Vulcans and tribbles. "Hey. Geek Squad."

Reid and Adam both looked up sheepishly. "Guys wanna come to Sullivan's, shoot some pool, drink a few?" He looked pointedly at Reid. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you're sober enough for a tour of the city tomorrow."

"Yeah? Yeah, sure!" And then just like that, he returned to his conversation with Adam, lost in a world of statistics that Flack thought would _maybe_ make more sense if he was drunk.

But probably not. He shoved his hands in his pocket, looking up into the snow and starry sky. He smiled sadly. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. Hawkes gave him a pat on the back as they ran to catch up with the two younger men.

* * *

Mac, Rossi and Stella left Sophia Johnson to be booked and processed by the officers downstairs and rode the elevator in silence to the 35th floor. When they stepped out, Stella said, "I'm gonna go grab my purse, and I think Hawkes said something about going to Sullivan's." She moved past them toward her office.

Rossi watched her for a moment. "Your partner's a hell of a woman," he noted, when she was well out of earshot.

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Don't even think about it. I know there's a reason there's fraternization rules at the FBI..."

Rossi grinned. "Nah, wouldn't dream of it. I can tell she's outta my league." He headed to the conference room to grab his things. "I wouldn't make a move on a woman spoken for, anyway."

"What?" Mac asked, confused.

The profiler chuckled. _All in a day's work._

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note: I just want to say THANK YOU to everybody that's read and reviewed this story. You'll have to let me know how I did. I'm hoping my plot bunny will return to "Wildcats" now, but as he's discovered a love of coffee with a ton of sugar and a penchant for statistics...you may see me in the realm of Criminal Minds next. But that's neither here nor there-thanks for reading!**


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